


If Touch Could Heal

by April_Valentine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene in "Them" between Rick and Daryl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Touch Could Heal

Rick had left everyone else up on the road while he went searching for Daryl. The whole group was so dispirited, but he knew Daryl was worse off than most of the others. They had lost so much. Maggie was grieving Beth, nearly giving up. Sasha had lost both Bob and Tyresse. They had no food or water. They all looked to him to keep them going but Rick had few reserves left himself. 

He glanced at the sky, looking for rain clouds. It had to rain soon. He’d been saying that for hours, but the sky was still clear.

He had been walking for a few minutes, going downhill, when he spotted a small barn. Across from it, Daryl was sitting next to a tree. His head was hanging, face obscured by his hair and he didn’t look up as Rick approached.

“Sorry,” Rick began in apology. “You’ve been gone awhile and I was starring to worry.”

Daryl didn’t respond. If anything, he drew more tightly into himself. He had his knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them. On the ground, Rick could see a cigarette smoldering. Then he noticed the fresh burn on Daryl’s hand.

He moved closer, not caring if he was invading Daryl’s space, coming to kneel beside him. Daryl sucked in a breath and pulled back against the tree, averting his gaze even more. 

“Daryl…” Rick didn’t know where to start but he couldn’t stand to see the other man hurting so badly. “What are you… why are you doing this to yourself?” He cautiously reached for Daryl’s wrist, lifting his hand up so he could inspect the self-inflicted injury.

“S’nothin’,” Daryl croaked. He didn’t try to pull out of Rick’s grasp though. “Not the first time.”

“What?” Rick couldn’t understand. He had seen kids who did things like this to themselves when he was a sheriff at King County, and yet he couldn’t parse the idea with Daryl. Somehow the man’s strength had led him to think Daryl could handle anything.

“Used to do it… long time ago,” Daryl said finally, as if admitting it was something to be ashamed of. He swiped his free hand over his face once and Rick realized he was wiping away tears he’d shed. “Just… didn’t know what else to do, y’know? There’s just so much… don’t know how to deal…”

 

“I know,” Rick sighed, then he shook his head. “I mean, I don’t. Not really. I just wish I could help you.”

“Don’t think there’s any help,” Daryl said tonelessly. “It’s all just rushin’ through my head, all the time. Won’t stop. Beth, Terminus, Joe… all the deaths…. I can’t find us food or water…”

“None of it is on you,” Rick told him, though he knew the words sounded hollow to Daryl. “Not your fault. Nobody’s fault. But you’re here and I’m here and we’re alive…” His voice trailed off. Daryl put so much on himself and Rick knew that was part of the problem. He had never had anyone to rely on or who relied on him before. He just didn’t have the coping skills to deal with so much pain and loss. None of them did, but Daryl didn’t know how to let any of it out at all. So he had wandered off alone to hurt himself physically, apparently to let that small hurt help him cope with the huge emotional hurts he had been suffering. It seemed such a sad and lonely thing to Rick. 

He moved closer, worried that encroaching too much into Daryl’s space would do more harm than good, but he couldn’t help himself. “I told you, man,” he said softly, “you’re my brother. What hurts you, hurts me.”

“Not much of a brother.” Daryl pulled his hand out of Rick’s grasp. “You shouldna come lookin’ for me,” he said. “Didn’t need to see this.” 

“You’re wrong, Daryl. I did need to see. I need to know what’s going on with you. I can’t ignore you, any more than I could ignore Carl or Judith, or blood running from my own body.” He reached out, hands settling on Daryl’s shoulders. “Don’t be ashamed,” he told him. “Don’t be afraid.” Uncertain if Daryl would let him, he pulled the other man close, drawing Daryl’s head to his chest, his fingers carding through the tangled strands of his long hair, wanting to comfort him, to let him feel something good instead of painful. Just for once. “You don’t need to hurt yourself. You need someone to hold you.” Rick tightened his arms as the realization swept through him. Did anyone ever hug Daryl, did anyone ever physically let him lean on them? 

In his arms, Daryl was tense, shaking. He groaned as if the sensation of being close hurt him as much as the emotional wounds. 

“S’okay,” Rick crooned, not letting him pull away. He enfolded Daryl closer, his heart filling with tenderness. For a moment, he thought Daryl was relaxing against him, then the other man stiffened, sitting up straighter and using both hands to push Rick away.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. He pushed against the ground, getting his legs under him and lurched away, stumbling up against another tree. He let his head fall against the rough bark, fists pounding at the trunk.

Part of Rick understood how hard it must be for Daryl to accept comfort, to let himself be vulnerable to another person. He probably should just get back up and go back to the others and wait until Daryl pulled himself together. But he couldn’t. He cared too much for him to allow him to be alone. No matter how much Daryl thought he couldn’t handle Rick’s presence, Rick wouldn’t be deterred. 

He loved Daryl too much. 

It broke his heart to see him suffering, nearly broke it more to be rejected. But he had to admit to himself that he did love the other man. Here, finally and without regret or guilt or any other thing the old world might have done to tell him it was wrong.

Part of him wanted to believe that maybe Daryl loved him too. That his feelings for Rick were as strong as Rick’s were for him and that those emotions were another part of what was overwhelming Daryl now. 

He might be imagining things, Rick knew. He was so tired, so hungry and thirsty that he supposed his mind wasn’t working at its best. But he wanted so badly for this one thing to be true.

“Why, Daryl?” he gasped out. “Why can’t you let me hold you?”

Daryl stopped beating at the tree, frozen at the sound of Rick’s voice. 

“Tell me. Please?”

For a long moment, there was only the silence of the woods between them. No birds sang, no leaves rustled. Then, Daryl turned and met Rick’s eyes.

“You called me brother,” he said. “I can’t… I don’t wanta be… just… your brother.”

Then Rick was up and moving to him, wrapping him close in his arms and kissing Daryl, showing him with his lips that he felt the same.

Gasping, Daryl responded, opening his mouth to Rick’s kiss, his breath hitching, his whole body trembling. For incalculable moments, they stood locked together.

Then, with a cry torn from his chest, Daryl pushed Rick away. “No! You can’t!” he yelled out, turning his back on Rick and wrapping his arms around himself. He started to walk away but there was no place to go.

Resolute, knowing now that he was right, Rick would no longer be put off. “Yes, I can, Daryl,” he told the other man softly. “I do.”

Daryl seemed to stop breathing. He turned, his expression contorted by disbelief and pain. “Why?”

Rick approached him, hands reaching to brace either side of that care worn face. “I don’t know. Who knows why we love someone? Not because that person is perfect. Because the person we love exists and life wouldn’t be right without them. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just know I do and if you hurt, I hurt.”

Daryl’s red-rimmed eyes were fixed on Rick’s, needing to believe, but so troubled. “Not s’posed to hurt. A man’s s’posed to deal – “

“With what?” Rick interrupted him. “With losin’ everything in the whole world? With losin’ family and having to kill to survive? What ever prepared any of us for this?” He took a step closer, tilting his head to meet Daryl’s gaze. “You are so much stronger than I am, but you don’t know it. If I didn’t have you, I’d be more lost than I already am.”

Daryl shrugged, glancing away. 

“I know what your brother told you,” Rick said, trying to be gentle, hating to bring up Merle now, but he had to. “He told you what a man is supposed to do and be, right? Not feel anything. Not care. Not love. And the rest of your family didn’t tell you otherwise, did they?” He took the last step into Daryl’s space again. “They were wrong. Feeling and caring, that is what makes a man. Loving, that’s what makes us _alive._ ”

“Rick?” Daryl said his name like it was his last hope, like he wanted so much to trust.

“I know,” he told Daryl, keeping his voice soft, his hands gentle. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.” He took a step closer, not yet daring to wrap Daryl up in his arms. “Let me do this,” he whispered. “Please.”

Daryl’s eyes blinked rapidly. He nodded once. Drew in a breath laced with apprehension.

Rick put his left arm around Daryl’s shoulders, his right hand settling at Daryl’s waist. Embracing Daryl was like trying to take hold of a frightened colt. “Easy. Easy,” he murmured. He didn’t so much pull Daryl to him as he stepped into the other man, pressing himself to Daryl’s side, feeling his warmth all along his own body. Daryl was trembling but Rick noted he wasn’t trying to move away.

“That’s it,” he said, moving closer still. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Daryl’s knees seemed to give way suddenly, but Rick didn’t let go. He followed him down to the ground, still holding onto him. “We’re okay. I’ve got you.” Daryl’s hands came up then, grasping at Rick like a drowning man. 

They ended up on the ground, stretched out together, Rick half on top of Daryl. Daryl was holding onto him with shaking hands, his chest heaving. Rick slid his arm beneath Daryl’s neck to support his head, watching his face. He cared so much for the troubled man, yet hardly knew where to start to really help him. All he could do was just be there, try to give him what he needed.

Daryl lifted his hand to Rick’s curls, meeting his eyes, his gaze adoring yet apprehensive. He stroked through Rick’s hair, then drew a finger down the side of his face, finally tracing over Rick’s lips. “You… kissed me.”

Rick ducked his head. “You kissed me back.” He looked back into Daryl’s eyes, and took hold of his wrist. His gaze was drawn to the burn mark on Daryl’s hand. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the wound, wishing he could heal it for him.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself any more,” he said, fighting to keep the urgency and anger out of his voice. He knew if Daryl realized how much it upset Rick to know he had burned himself the moment would break between them. 

“S’hard to explain,” Daryl told him. “So much else hurts… s’like if I did that, the rest wouldn’t, y’know?”

Rick knew Daryl was wounded emotionally, but he realized he had to have physical hurts too. There had never been time to take care of them.

“Tell me where it hurts,” Rick asked. He looked Daryl over, seeing the small wounds on his face. A cut above his eyebrow. Rick leaned down to press his lips to it. 

There were small abrasions on either side of Daryl’s mouth. He could see them now, this close and now that he was really looking. From the gag at Terminus. Rick pressed a chaste kiss to each mark, carefully, reverently. 

He checked Daryl’s eyes, gauging his reaction. The man’s tongue came out to wet his lips. Rick bent to kiss them, just barely touching, soft as he could.

He turned the hand he held, seeing how the zip ties had chaffed the soft skin there. He kissed those wounds too.

“Where else?” he asked, his voice just a whisper. 

“No, it’s not… Rick…” Daryl tried to protest.

Rick wouldn’t be deterred. He raised up on his elbow, fingers dropping to the buttons on Daryl’s shirt. He was wearing his vest, with his usual sleeveless cotton shirt under that. Rick spread the vest open, then unbuttoned the shirt, as Daryl’s breath caught and held. Beneath the shirt, Daryl had on a loose black undershirt. Rick touched the hem of it. Daryl didn’t stop him.

He lifted, baring the ugly bruises underneath. They were days, even weeks, old, but Rick remembered the sounds of them happening, as Joe’s men had punched and kicked Daryl, ready to take his blood offered for Rick’s. And more of them had happened in Terminus.

His fingers fluttered over the dark discoloration, purple and yellow merging to denote Daryl’s silent suffering. Rick could feel his ribs under the skin, so pronounced from weight loss. “Anything broken?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t think so. Pretty sore though,” Daryl admitted. 

Rick brought his cheek down gingerly to Daryl’s side, lips pressing without weight, not wanting to cause more hurt. He felt water collecting in his eyes and looked up at Daryl.

“You shoulda said something.”

Daryl shrugged. “No point.”

Rick hung his head. “That night… I should have checked you out. Should have…”

Daryl’s hand sank into his hair. “You were dealing with everything else that night.” He was, as always, so forgiving of Rick’s faults. “I didn’t even really feel much then anyway.”

“But now?” Rick asked.

It was a struggle, but finally Daryl nodded. 

“I don’t have anything,” Rick said, feeling so lost. “No medicine. No ointment. Nothin’.” He blinked his tears away. “I wish I could just… touch you all over and make you feel better. I wish that was enough.”

Daryl bit his lip. His eyes never left Rick’s gaze. 

“Daryl?” 

“What you did already felt good.”

“Oh, man.” Rick’s heart started pounding. 

 

He bent to Daryl’s lips again, taking his time, putting all his love into the kiss. Daryl responded, his lips opening, letting Rick’s tongue inside, sliding his own wetly against it.

Rick broke the kiss reluctantly but brought a hand up to Daryl’s shoulder, skimming his fingers over the man’s biceps and down to his wrist. The contrast between Daryl’s seemingly endless strength, those formidable arms of his, and his broken vulnerability, made Rick ache with tenderness. He caressed his throat and neck, over and over, wishing his touch could really heal, hoping the offered comfort was enough. 

Under his fingers Daryl gasped and sighed, as if Rick actually could take his pain away. 

“Let’s take these off,” Rick suggested, helping Daryl to remove his shirt and vest. Once out of them, he lifted up the loose undershirt and pulled it over Daryl’s head, easing him back onto the bed of leaves they were laying on.

The man’s whole chest was mottled with bruises, some older, some fresher, and beneath them were scars that Rick knew were years old. He traced them all with delicate fingers, while Daryl allowed the intimacy. He trembled, breath anxious and halting, but he lifted up into Rick’s caresses, eyes fluttering, lips moist and open. 

Rick’s hand swept over the broad expanse of his chest, the tips of his fingers skimming Daryl’s nipples lightly. They pebbled instantly; Daryl’s sensitivity a surprise, and Rick couldn’t stop himself from paying more attention to them, circling, pressing his thumb against first one and then the other. 

“Oh!” Daryl shuddered under the touch, turning his face away, clearly embarrassed by his reaction.

“You haven’t been touched a lot, have you?” Rick asked, worried the question would make Daryl awkward again. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his lips to a dark purple spot above his clavicle. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Never thought about it much,” Daryl managed. “Most touches hurt…” He couldn’t finish. 

“I miss touch,” Rick told him. “It can be so good, Daryl. I promise…” He dared to kiss one dark nipple, then let his lips trail lower, his hand skating over Daryl’s soft skin.

Daryl’s hand captured Rick’s as it stroked over his belly. “Don’t make promises,” he asked. “They’re hard to keep.”

“I want you to trust me.”

“I do. It’s just… “

“I know. The world.” Rick let his hand wander up to Daryl’s throat, to his chin, so he could lean in for another kiss. “Before. And now.”

“Never learned much about touchin’, before,” Daryl admitted. “Started to think I wouldn’t ever.” He ran a tentative hand up and down Rick’s arm.

“Could I teach you?” Rick asked, hoping the answer would be yes. 

“Rick? Daryl?” Glenn’s voice cut into the silence that had enveloped them. “You guys down there?”

Daryl pulled out of Rick’s arms, grabbing for his shirts. Rick glanced up at the trees above them. “It’s all right. He can’t see us,” he said urgently.

He moved out to the clear area, waved up at Glenn. “We’re okay,” he called back. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

Glenn nodded and turned back.

But the moment was broken. Daryl had put on his shirts and was pulling his vest tight across his chest. His eyes were wide and wild, almost terrified.

Rick reached but didn’t touch him. “I’m sorry.”

“We should get back,” Daryl said, stepping past him to pick up his crossbow. 

“Daryl – “

“You helped, Rick.” He ducked his head, eyes diffident. “You did. But…”

“We’ll talk. Okay?” Rick wanted to yell, hit something. Or maybe cry. The moment was lost. He might never be able to approach Daryl again. “Just… don’t hurt yourself again. Please?”

Daryl gave a curt nod, then strode past him to make his way back up the hill toward the others.

Rick had seen his face though. To him, Daryl looked as despondent as he had when Rick had first found him. His heart ached. But there was nothing he could do for him now.

It had to rain soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Two things. First, I know this is a scene that others have written about. But I wanted to write my take on what could have happened too. I wanted to try to express why Daryl would self-harm and of course wanted to give him some comfort.
> 
> Second, I am not totally satisfied with this but after sitting on it for several days, I decided to post anyway. I really wanted certain aspects of this to be set right after Terminus or after the Joe incident, but it just didn't work. It's got my ideas from a couple of scenes in my head and that's why I am not as happy with it as I wish I could be. Considering Daryl's attitude in the barn in canon after this would have happened, I couldn't really get them together here either.
> 
> Feedback is welcome.


End file.
